


Blue Silk, Red Blood

by capitainpistol



Category: Wonder Woman (2017), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7653142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capitainpistol/pseuds/capitainpistol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve chases Diana after the failed assassination attempt. Wonder Woman Movieverse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Silk, Red Blood

Diana is gone before the dust settles. Everyone notices she’s missing, but no one says a thing. No one is sure what the hell happened, much less what it might mean. The beauty in blue had cut a red slash through the festivities, exposing far greater anxieties.

Steve surges the motorcycle through narrow paths in the woods, missing trees and bushes by inches. She’s already faded from his line of sight, and the horse’s hoofs no longer stomp the ground with sound.

He follows the tendrils of her blue silk dress, falling away from her one piece at a time as she rides. 

A part of him is invigorated. Speed is what he lived for. The feeling of weightlessness, of flying, made all things clear. Calling her name yields nothing. 

Diana takes one look back and rides harder. Steve closes a fist around the ignition and doesn’t stop until a branch is swallowed into the engine and the wheels stutter and wobble, sending him forward in a violent, gravity-defying lunge.

He bites down hard, the pain blinding.

Worth it, he thinks, when Diana drops next to him, angry tears in her eyes.

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” he jokes through gritted teeth.

“You idiot,” she says, a small smile curling her lips.

Her shaky hand caresses his brow, the same sword wielding hand that nearly took another man’s life tonight. 

He accepts her arm to stand. They’re as close as both times they danced. The wide-eyed ingénue look of their first snow fallen embrace, and the stone cold look of the goddess from earlier, combined into a conflicted frown.

The silence is eerie, his breath visible in the cold air, sunset moments away. 

Steve shivers, but he tries not to. He’s in pain, in his body, in his soul. His love for her is untethered and pure, the only light in his dark world. She feels it like a piercing wound, a slow aching from his heart to hers. 

“This was a mistake,” she says, and she’s not sure if she means him, or leaving Themyscira, or tonight, or running away, or all that was to come if she decided to stay. “I thought I could make a difference, but my mother was right. Men’s nature cannot be changed.”

No crickets chirp, the wind blows quiet. The war has silenced nature herself.

Diana finds no comfort in it like once she did on Themyscira. Somehow the constant commotion of the city had become soothing. Part of her wants to return, revel in the parties like the others. Forget the atrocities. There were so many.

Steve takes her hand and brings it to his chest. “You’re right,” he says wearily, his heartbeat a loud drum in the stillness. “I’m sorry.”

Diana doesn’t let herself be drawn in. She pushes him away and makes a full dramatic turn that’d make Hippolyta proud. “That’s all you have to say? You’re sorry? For all of mankind? You’re sorry.”

“I could tell you that you changed me, but that’s not going to convince you to fight with us. I’m not even sure I want you to fight with us. Yes, because I worry about you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know.”

“I’ve been alive for over a thousand years.”

“I know.”

“And nothing has ever made me so confused as this, here. This war. You. I want to go home.”

“I know.” He approaches her slowly, combs the hair out of her eyes to caress her cheek.

Diana clutches on to him, for the first time in her life afraid of tomorrow. “I…. I ‘m afraid.” 

“So am I.”

He hugs her tight and for a long time. Pulling her head away, Diana stares at his lips, touches stubble, fascinated by the white and gray specks. He’s younger than her by hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of years, but he has lines in his eyes and the edges of his mouth. 

She kisses him softly, tenderly, not wanting to hurt him, but the longer they are joined the harder she holds on, the deeper they kiss. 

The blue dress is almost completely gone, but he’s covered neck to toe in thick winter clothes. Getting him out of them exhilarates her, his goosebumps reminding her how fragile we was, the veins around his muscles reminding her how strong. She guides Steve down to the ground, and despite the hard fall, he’s careful coming over her, weight barely on her hips as he held himself up on his elbow. His freezing fingers warm when they twine with hers.


End file.
